A Blade to the Throat
by Rigato Caravel
Summary: Sequel to A Knife to the Back. Kyle and Cartman are settling into their new lives. They've even adopted a puppy! But when an unsettling note arrives from Liane, Kyle takes matters into his own hands. Kyle/Cartman
1. Puppies and Envelopes

The long awaited sequel to A Knife to the Back is here! Cartman gets a letter from his mom, but will he save her after all she's done to him? Or is it really her fault? Will Kyle find out about Cartman's drug manufacturing ? All questions are answered here in this sequel!

Kyle stretched, smiling as his naked body arched to meet the sunlight streaming through their window. He moaned gently, wiggling his hips to wake up his sleeping body. He ruffled his springy, curly red locks, his emerald eyes blinking through the haze of sleep. He felt good. It was a slow, beautiful wake up to a shining, beautiful morning in a Colorado summer. The final vestiges of the snow was melting outside, and warmth was bleeding through the window onto his pale skin. "Mmm…" he purred, looking down at the large lump on the other side of the bed. "Come on Cartman. Wake up. It's a beautiful morning and you promised to take me to the pound." Kyle pushed at the lump.

Cartman snarled at him halfheartedly. "Dogs and Jews don't get along." He grumbled. "Haven't you fucking figured it out in sixty years…? Stupid heeb." He pulled the covers up over his shoulder and turned over in the bed. Kyle frowned and yanked the covers down off of Cartman's body.

"Eric. You promised. We've got good money coming in now from your job at the mall. You're not home during the week….I want something to take care of." Kyle said. "This house is cleaner than it ever was… I think a puppy would be great. It would guard the house just in case."

"Give me the fucking covers back you son of a bitch!" Cartman lunged at him and tore the covers from his hands, snuggling back down into his nest. "IF we get a fucking dog I get to name it!" he growled in a muffled fashion under the thick goose down comforter.

"That's not fair! You're going to give it a horrible name like Fuhrer or something." Kyle protested, tugging at the large mass of covers. He gave up and straddled Cartman's side naked, looking down at the tuft of nut-brown hair poking up through a gap in the covers. He ruffled it and felt a growl from under his legs.

"I wouldn't. But if you get to choose the dog I get to name it." Cartman challenged. "That's my rule, Jew. You pick, I name. Fair's fair." He wiggled his hips, trying to shove Kyle off. But the skinny redhead kept his perch quite easily. Kyle sighed and kissed the tuft of brown hair.

"Okay. But you can't give it a Nazi name." he said. "Promise me that at least?"

"Only if you don't pick a fucking pussy dog. Anything under fifty pounds is a pussy dog. Only faggots have those." Cartman poked his thick head out from the nest of covers, glaring at Kyle. He let his eyes rove over Kyle's slender ivory legs and his soft cock, licking his lips. Last night had been a good one…lots of rough lovemaking. He'd made the bruises on those soft hips of Kyle's. He'd fucked him good. He slid over in the nest of covers, shifting Kyle so the boy was properly straddling his hips.

"Okay, okay." Kyle rolled his eyes. "But in case you didn't notice we ARE fags, fatass. We're about as gay as they come without living in San Francisco. We even have houseplants."

"YOU have houseplants. I piss in the pots when you take too long in the bathroom." Cartman grinned evilly. "Speaking of which get off, Jew. I have to piss." He bucked his hips again, trying to shove Kyle off. His lover rolled his eyes and slid off, getting off their broad bed so he could pick out clothes. Cartman got up and sneakily pinched Kyle's rear, heading into the master bathroom. Kyle squeaked and rubbed his bruised rear, glaring at the shut bathroom door. But he was happy inside. He never intended to get a small yappy dog, so he had really won. He would get a nice Labrador, and Cartman would hopefully choose a name that wasn't too horrid.

Kyle slid into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, pulling his green jacket on. While it was sunny outside, the Colorado wind still had a nasty bite to it. He put a pair of thick socks on, rolling his ankles happily to hear the joints pop. It had been nearly six months since he'd had the cast on, and he was loving the freedom. If he had his way he would never have a boot on his foot ever again. He couldn't tarry too long getting dressed. Cartman was very particular in how he liked to wake up, and Kyle had learned early that a lack of coffee put Cartman in a foul mood for the rest of the day. Nothing could lift a cloud like that, so Kyle had taken it upon himself to make coffee every morning.

Besides, he wanted Cartman in a good mood so when they brought the puppy home it would feel secure. The last thing he wanted was to terrify the poor thing with Cartman's volatile temper. Kyle went downstairs to start the coffeemaker and put the skillet on the stove. He cracked three eggs into it and scrambled them up with salt, pepper, and dill while the coffee bubbled away. Six slices of bacon, two links of sausage, and a large mug of coffee would be waiting for Cartman when he finally stumbled downstairs. Then he could make himself a simple egg and have his orange juice.

Cartman came down just as Kyle was pouring the coffee into his mug, plopping heavily into the kitchen chair and shoveling food down his throat. Kyle slid his own egg into a small plate and sat down across from Cartman, chuckling. "Good morning to you too." Kyle said, sipping his juice happily.

Cartman grumbled around a mouthful of food. Kyle rolled his eyes and finished his egg fairly quickly, downing the orange juice quickly. "You finish your food, I'll get the mail then we can go." He said cheerfully, setting his dishes in the sink. Kyle bounced outside cheerfully to their mailbox, unable to contain the smile on his face. Without Cartman's consent he'd gone shopping, getting a dog bed, food, puppy dishes, a collar and leash…everything he'd need for a puppy. Cartman still thought he wouldn't go through with it…hah! He pulled out the mail, humming as he scanned through it. Junk mail, junk mail, cable bill, junk mail…and a letter. He paused at the last and frowned at it.

From Liane Cartman, to Eric Cartman. There was no return address, and the stamp had been slapped on haphazardly. Kyle bit his lip, his good mood deflating in an instant. "Why did that no good bitch have to…" he growled. It had been a beautiful morning…they were going to get a puppy for god's sake! He knew if he showed this to Cartman the entire day would be ruined. But if he hid it from his lover, he would catch hell for it later. Unless…he took a deep breath and put the envelope back into the mailbox, shutting it up tightly. The mail came twice a day after all; once in the morning, once in the evening. Who's to say it wouldn't come at 5 pm instead of on their gorgeous summer morning?

Kyle walked back inside and put the junk mail in the trash, setting the bill on the table so Cartman could pay it later. His lover was setting his dishes in the sink, happy and awake now that he'd downed a few cups of coffee. Cartman came up behind him and wrapped thick, meaty arms around his waist, burrowing his head into Kyle's neck. Kyle forced a smile onto his face. "Ready?" he asked eagerly. He had to forget about the letter. Today was too beautiful of a day to spoil with rage.

But what the hell did Liane want with them? Kyle and Eric were happy. They had a house, bills, they made love five times a week and Cartman had a steady job. Kyle was content cleaning the house and hanging out with Stan getting boned up for college. Why did she have to throw a wrench into their happy lives? Or, God forbid, was she coming back? Kyle followed Cartman out of the house, watching his lover lock their door. They passed by the mailbox, Kyle feeling a shiver go up his spine. It was like the letter was taunting him.

"Oh Cartman…"

Kyle was glowing happily, his arms wrapped around the most beautiful little pit bull puppy he'd ever laid eyes on. He'd been set on a Labrador, but when he'd seen the big blue eyes looking up at him from the pen he'd had to pick her up. When he did, he knew he was bringing the pit bull home. The puppy was a light reddish brown with a large white streak on her chest, and she'd not stopped licking him since he had signed the papers. He giggled and petted her, watching her whip-like tail wag furiously back and forth. "She's so cute! What are we going to name her?" Kyle looked over at his lover, who looked proud that he hadn't chosen a 'faggy dog'.

Cartman looked over at the puppy, eyeing her. "Jutte." He grunted. Kyle snickered and snuggled the puppy tighter to his chest, kissing the tip of her ruddy nose. "It means child." Cartman explained, smirking at the newly-christened Jutte. He took a hand off the steering wheel and rubbed her head, receiving a mass of licks on his hand. She was a little ball of energy, wiggling excitedly in the car. "She's cute, but if she pisses in here then you're cleaning it up." Cartman said, pulling into their driveway. Kyle tried to get Jutte to hold still while he slipped her new halter around her broad chest. It was similar to putting shoes on a two-year old. Constant wiggling.

When they finally let her out to relieve herself on the lawn and then into the house, Kyle rushed to get her bed ready and give her some of her toys. Cartman folded his arms. "Jesus, kike, you're spoiling the shit out of the damn dog." He grumbled, kneeling and tussling with the overjoyed puppy. "At least you picked something badass."

The evening rolled around far too early for Kyle's taste. Jutte had exhausted herself and was now flopped on the couch watching television with Cartman and himself. He'd tried to get her to obey him, but for some reason Jutte completely ignored him and only paid attention to Cartman. Even worse, Cartman was teaching her how to sit and stay in German. Kyle had to admit…the commands sounded a lot more forceful when said in German. Jutte was a smart dog and found training fun, though bored of it quickly and resumed exploring every nook and cranny in the house.

Kyle's heart sank when their television programme ended and Cartman kissed his cheek. "Go check the mail. We didn't get the property bill." He grumbled, switching the television off and picking up the sleeping puppy. He laid her in her bed, stretching and heading into the kitchen to get dinner. Jutte lifted her head and stumbled after Cartman, her tail wagging so hard her rear end wagged the entire way into the kitchen. Kyle swallowed and went back out to get the mail, pulling out the envelope and scanning over it again.

Liane Cartman, to Eric Cartman.

Kyle carried it in with a heavy heart, seeing Cartman irritably bark at Jutte to sit in German. The wiggling puppy sat next to her master, eyeing the pot of pasta Cartman was stirring around. "She learns quick. You picked a smart dog, Jew." Cartman commented, leaving the pasta to boil. "What's that?" he easily snatched the envelope out of Kyle's fingers and looked at the name on the front. Kyle saw his lover's eyes darken, then lift to meet his.

Cartman said nothing. He ripped open the envelope and tore out the letter, his eyes scanning it. Kyle knew better than to ask what it read, but he wanted to know more than anything. Cartman's face went from dark, to sneering, to ice cold. "Fucking whore." He snarled, and crumpled up the paper. He threw it in the wastebin. "I'm not hungry, Jew. Feed my part to the dog." Cartman growled, and stomped upstairs.

Jutte whined, wiggling her tail and looking at Kyle. Kyle knelt and patted her head. "It's ok girl." He said, smiling at her. "Just let him alone for a little bit, okay? He probably needs to be alone." He added, but the dog didn't pay him any mind. She turned and wiggled her way up the stairs after Cartman. Kyle sighed. He'd have to get the pup to obey him someday. He fished in the garbage and uncrumpled the letter, taking it into the bathroom to read. He knew better than to get caught reading it on the bathroom floor. Cartman wasn't stupid, but Kyle did know how to fool him. The note froze his blood. Liane's letter was a plea for help. She was begging Cartman to come to Denver, to meet her. That she desperately had to speak with him about something, something that was endangering her life. She needed her son, and was sorry about leaving him.

Kyle chewed his lip. He couldn't believe Cartman had just thrown away the note like this! Liane was in trouble! He knew that she had left Cartman…but she sounded like she was in real trouble. It even might have explained why she hadn't come home to Cartman that night. It was clear she had a lot to answer for, but reaching out for her son like this meant Liane had no other options. Kyle crumpled the note back up. So she wanted to meet Cartman tomorrow in Denver. Kyle would make sure they were there. If only to see what she wanted.

He walked out of the bathroom, making sure to flush the toilet so he didn't bring any suspicion on himself, and tossed the note back into the trash. Kyle swore when he heard the sound of water overboiling and turned down the pasta, sighing deeply into the steam. If Cartman wasn't going tomorrow…he was.


	2. It's My House and I'll Piss Where I Want

Kyle had a sleepless night. He'd packed a bag and hidden it well from Cartman, made reservations in Denver online to stay at a hotel…was he really going through with this? He'd tried to get Cartman to calm down, but the racist had gotten so grumpy he'd simply grabbed his pillow and headed downstairs to sleep on the couch. Unsurprisingly, Jutte perked her ears up and followed him…leaving Kyle in bed alone. The Jew sighed deeply and ran his fingers over his face. "Please God. Just…let this be nothing bad. Let this be Cartman's mom apologizing to him. Being a mother again." He whispered the prayer, knowing Cartman disapproved of Jesus-killers praying to their 'murder victim'. Or so he'd been told. Kyle wished he had Jutte with him. The pit bull was so happy, she would have been the perfect thing to scare his fears away. But instead she was probably sleeping on top of Cartman.

Kyle pulled the covers up over his shoulder and turned over, eyeing the window. An hour later he was still watching the moon. He sighed and got out of bed, ruffling his long curls and heading downstairs with a blanket in his arms. He spread it over Cartman's sleeping body on their wide couch. "You're such an asshole." Kyle said affectionately, kissing Cartman's cheek. Well…it was time to go. He wouldn't be able to leave in the morning without being late for Liane's meeting. He'd have to go and spend the night in the hotel. Besides, he couldn't get to sleep. He chewed his lip when he looked at Jutte. He didn't want to leave her alone with Cartman, but he knew his boyfriend wouldn't hurt her. Much as Cartman was callous and rough, he loved that dog already.

He grabbed Cartman's keys from a hook near the wall and went upstairs, dressing quickly and grabbing his bag. He'd always kept a few extra bucks under the armoire, and now was the time to use it. He stuffed the money into his jacket pockets and jammed his hat on top of his head. It was now or never. He was going to go meet Liane, and find out what she wanted. He took a deep breath and slid out of the house, backpack on his back and keys in his hand. He felt guilty taking the swastika charm. It felt horrible, wrong in his hand. But it would help prove who he was, and it was a piece of Cartman. His mother had given this to Cartman with a lot of thought.

In the few minutes he sat in the car, started the engine, and drove down the street…his gut began to twist and roil. He knew Cartman would be in torrents of rage as soon as he realized his beloved car was gone. He would be even angrier when he figured out exactly where he had gone. Kyle was spending their money on gas to go to Denver, probably driving into danger, all without telling his lover. Kyle's hands tightened on the wheel and he gritted his teeth. He had to do this. Cartman obviously didn't give two shits about his mother, so he had to. Liane didn't deserve this sort of rejection. She was in need of her son, but Cartman was having none of it.

Kyle parked the car safely in the parking lot of the Denver Regional Hotel and checked in to his room. It felt so empty without Cartman complaining about the bad décor or the flat bed, the creaking nightstand or the lack of a room service menu. Or Hell, just without Cartman's body denting one side of the bed it was lonely. Would he ever get to sleep tonight without that ham hock of an arm over his body? Kyle plopped his bag down on the bed. The note had said he needed to meet Liane Cartman the following day at the 5th Street Café in downtown Denver. Kyle stripped down to his boxers and laid in the thin hotel sheets, wrinkling his nose. It smelled of foreign, industrial cleaners and inhuman freshness. But it was better than trying to sneak out of the house in the morning, whereas here he had hours ahead of his relentless lover. Now he just had to wait for the bomb to hit back home…and pray to God he could stay one step ahead of his boyfriend. Kyle closed his eyes, curling into a ball under the sheets.

Cartman yawned and stretched. "Kahl….getmmcoffee…." he grumbled, reaching over to paw his boyfriend awake. Instead his hand hit cold air. He cracked open an eyelid and was rewarded with a frantic tongue bath, smelling thickly of puppy. Cartman lifted his other arm to defend himself and gently pushed Jutte off the couch onto the floor. The puppy's tail was wagging so hard to see him awake, Cartman fuzzily thought she might vibrate across the floor. "Yeah yeah…" Cartman put his hand down to pet her and sat up. This definitely wasn't bed. He vaguely remembered being angry at his mother's letter, and giving the Jew the bed. He put the heel of one hand to his eye socket and ground the sleepiness out of his brain, stumbling up in his boxer shorts. Jutte pranced around him, her whiplike tail lashing his legs. "Jutte, sitz!" he commanded. The pit bull planted her butt to the floor obediently, but she was still wiggling, shivering and full of energy. Probably hungry as well. She whined, shifting from foot to foot. Cartman recognized that sign at least.

"Oh God dammit not in here." He snarled, stumbling into the kitchen and opening the back door to the yard. "Jutte, Hier!" he barked at her. The puppy ran out into the backyard and relieved herself in the grass, looking slightly pained from having to wait so long. "Kyle you useless Jew! Get down here and make me some God damned coffee!" Cartman roared back into the house. Where was he? Cartman pulled a smoke out of a crumpled pack next to the door and slid out into the cold, lighting it and inhaling. He had to piss as well, but God only knew what sort of ruckus the Jew would raise with him smoking in the house. "Fuck it. It's my house." Cartman grumbled, stepping into the grass and relieving himself against the fence. Jutte perked up an ear, finished her business and came to lick his bare leg.

Cartman shook, tucked himself away and headed back into the house. Fuck extinguishing his cigarette, he needed it with no coffee awaiting him in the morning. He chewed the filter as he came back in the house, wiggling his toes on the warmer linoleum. "Braver hund." He told Jutte when she followed him in. He shut the door and whistled to get her attention. "Hol sie Kahl, Jutte. Get the useless Jew up and making me coffee." He pointed toward the stairs, but it was obvious Jutte didn't get that particular command yet. She licked his leg and went to bury her face in her food bowl. Oh, so the Jew had given her breakfast, and had neglected to make him one solitary sausage link? Not in his house!

He would go and get Kyle himself, and throw the Jew into the freezing cold hot tub they hadn't gotten repaired yet. He smirked at the prospect as he ascended the stairs, stalked down the hallway. Threw his cigarette with a hiss into a bowl of water and flowers his lover had cut. He opened the door to their room to reveal…rumpled sheets. His eyes flicked to the closet. Hastily thrown open, with the drawers askew, the dresser creaked as if in fear of his approach. Cartman's teeth ground against one another. Kyle's old backpack was missing. Cartman's keys were missing from the nightstand…that sent his anger into overload. A quick glance out the window confirmed it. His Jew had taken off!

"God DAMN IT!" Cartman roared. How hadn't he heard Kyle take off? He knew the sound of his own car, he'd always feared he'd wake up to hear the local black kids stealing it, and the fucking Jew had pinched it right under his nose! Where had Kyle gone?


	3. You're Not Going Anywhere

Kyle stared at the coordinates on the hotel computer. The highly public terminal down in the lobby that was normally for the visitors to check their email was being bogarted by a very nervous Jew. He thought he might chew the end right off of his thumb the way his teeth kept restlessly questing for dead keratin. His eyes were locked onto the address of the 5th Street Café. It was only a short walk from here.

Was he really doing the right thing?

This was Cartman's mother. Cartman hadn't intervened so drastically with Mrs. Broflovski when she had insisted on taking him to that camp. Well…on second thought he had. Poisoned half the counselors and shut the camp down for good. So was this any different? Was Kyle's interfering with Cartman's mother crossing that delicate line?

Of course it was.

In this relationship he was the underling, and while he accepted the rule of his overbearing lover happily the tables were turned here.

Kyle took a deep breath and stood up, closing MapSearch with a solitary click. "Alright Kyle, man up." He scratched his scalp through his green hat, heading out of the door and onto the streets of Denver. It really wasn't that much different from his redneck mountain town. It was just bigger, and a lot more dangerous. That was the way he preferred to think of it anyway. He kept his head down as he walked down the sidewalk, his mind buzzing.

His thoughts turned from his lover's fury to Liane. She was such a sweet woman, what had gotten her into such trouble? Perhaps he was blowing it out of proportion. Maybe Liane had moved to the city to find her son money, and wanted to make a better life with him now. His heart told him that was a pack of lies. Kyle spotted the diner, his eyes lifting his mind from his disturbing thoughts.

Here went nothing.

He stepped into the small café with lead in his soul, his eyes scanning the coffee drinkers for a familiar face. His nerves hit a high pitch when he saw a woman in her mid forties playing with her fingers, her eyes downcast at the table. Kyle took a deep breath and headed to her table, slowly sitting down. "Mrs. Cartman?" he ventured.

Her surprised eyes met his. "Kyle Broflovski? What are you doing here? Where's my darling poofikins?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly. Kyle spotted a deep, dark bruise on one of her cheeks.

"It's a long story." Kyle mumbled, recalling how he and Cartman had begun their relationship. In truth, if it hadn't been for Liane abandoning Cartman, he never would have broken his ankle, and wouldn't be with the youngest Cartman. "Mrs. Cartman, are you in some sort of trouble?" he asked, concerned. "I got your letter…"

"Y-you got it? But I sent it to our old address…I need my poofikins here, he's the only one they want." Liane said, biting her lip. She seemed to get more and more agitated the longer they sat there, shifting like she was ready to bolt out of her chair.

Kyle frowned. "They?" he asked. Liane tucked a bit of hair behind her ear and nodded, leaning in close.

"My…boss found his son overdosed on the methamphetamines three days ago. He…he claims my poofikins made the batch that killed him. I wanted him to come here to take me home, we could be a family again." Liane whispered. Kyle felt a stone drop into his gut. Cartman was cooking meth? Since when? The man certainly had the capabilities to do so, Kyle had seen the brunt of his skills with chemistry before. He scowled. If Cartman was cooking methamphetamine in their house, so help him he would strangle that fat fuck!

Kyle frowned. "Cartman doesn't cook meth, he knows I'd kick his fat ass if he did. As for going home, he's furious with you. The sight of that letter was enough to make him sleep on the couch. You abandoned him. What the hell makes you think he would help you now? You just packed up and left him, no food, no money for bills, one change of clothes. He was desperate!" He was starting to get angry with her now. "Do you know what he resorted to? Do you? He took over your clients so he could fucking eat!"

Liane's face looked surprised, which just made Kyle angrier. Didn't she know what could happen if she just left her child alone at home? "I came here because he wouldn't, and I was concerned for you. But you have the gall to ask that he take you home with all forgotten?" he growled across the table at her. "No. The house is ours now. Cartman and I are together, and I take care of him."

"I just wanted to come here to make more money. There's more work here, it would pay for some things in the house. I thought Eric would be fine without me, he always seemed to be." Liane said softly. "But they wanted to lure him here with me, and I knew I was bait but they made me write that horrible little letter…" she put her head in her hands. "I'm so sorry Kyle. I didn't know you would come instead of Eric…"

"Cartman always needed you. He's your son." Kyle snapped, then stood up. "Liane, whatever trouble you're in…you made it for yourself. I wanted to help you because I thought you might have been kidnapped, captured, whatever. You willingly left Cartman alone…no explanation, no letter, all the furniture gone. Then you write him a letter so people can come and what, kill him? It just makes me feel sick when I look at you. Good luck with your life, Liane, but don't you dare write him another letter."

He turned around and his heart froze. His nose was barely brushing the front of a starched shirt. Kyle slowly raised his chin, meeting a pair of cold, dark eyes. A hand seized his upper arm, squeezing tighter than a blood pressure cuff. Warning him not to cry out or yell.

"I don't think you're going anywhere."

Cartman had scoured the house for clues. Three changes of clothes gone. Kyle wasn't planning on staying for long. A quick look into Kyle's browsing history on the Jew's laptop told him Kyle was going to Denver, and where he was staying. It clicked. The fucking stupid Jew was answering the god damn letter! He was going to see his mother!

"That stupid fucking asshole…" Cartman snarled. "If that's the fucking game he wants to play…" he snapped the laptop lid shut sharply and stood up. "Jutte!" he shouted for the puppy. He would have to take her with him. He knew the address, he knew Kyle would have met with his mother already. Damn that sneaky fucking Jew. He slid his butterfly knife into his pocket, grateful he kept an extra house key so he could lock up and leave. With Jutte in her brand new pink halter and leash, he locked up his home.

He was fuming. No car, he had cash for a bus but fuck taking the Niggermobile. Public transport was for poor people.

His mind raced as he walked down the street. Kenny. Kenny was poor, he didn't have a fucking job and he had that piece of shit for a car. But he didn't want the thing dying on him halfway to Denver; that would completely fuck him. Cartman slowly passed the old Stotch residence and paused. Butters. That skinny little sparklefag would cave into his requests, he always did.

Cartman turned and whistled to Jutte to follow. She just saw this as an outing, and was more preoccupied with colouring the snow and sniffing the sidewalk than her master. Cartman lifted his meaty fist to pound on the door, but it opened before he hit it.

"What do you want?" a gravelly, cold voice wafted out of the doorway. The smell of clove cigarettes hit Cartman's nose and he scowled reflexively. He'd completely forgotten about Gage.

"I need to talk with Butters." Cartman said, trying not to sound too aggressive. He'd figured out that Gage didn't work with intimidation, and would simply ignore his attempts at domination. Cartman saw the goth boy raise an eyebrow and lift his cigarette to his lips. He inhaled and blew smoke in Cartman's face, smirking when he saw the fat boy's eyelids flutter.

Cartman waved his hand in front of his eyes, trying to dissipate the smelly smoke. "Can I come in or do I have to break your skinny neck?" he snarled.

"Yeah, you can come in. But there's nothing in the fridge. We're moving in two days, so we decided it was easier to just order takeout." Gage shrugged, stepping aside and letting Cartman's massive body into the house.

"Eric!" Butters came rushing down the hallway and put his skinny arms around Cartman's neck and hugged him tightly. Cartman could feel he'd gained a healthy amount of weight since he'd freed himself from his parents…and he'd definitely come out of that shy little shell. "You haven't visited me in so long! Y-you have a puppy! What's his name?" Butters let him go and greeted Jutte. The pit bull happily washed Butters' face, her tail lashing the back of Cartman's calf.

"It's a girl you fucking idiot. You think I'd put a pink halter on a male dog? Her name's Jutte." Cartman said, letting himself feel proud of his dog for a moment. But this put his anger on the back burner, and he didn't like that feeling. "Listen Butters, I need your car."

"Aw Eric what do you need my car for?" Butters giggled, completely enthralled in petting Jutte.

"You don't need to know." Cartman growled. "But since I gave you those poisons for free so you could kill your fucking parents, I figure I have you by the balls." He knelt and grabbed Butter's chin. "Get me? I need your car, so I'm taking it." He hissed, and felt a hard boot press down on his back. Pain shot up between his shoulderblades.

"Listen, fatty." Gage growled. "Let him go, and don't you dare touch him again."

Cartman felt weight being applied to the boot and was forced to let Butters go so he could support himself on his hands and knees. "Let me up you fucking crazy bastard!" Cartman roared angrily.

"Are we clear on the no touching thing, pig?" Gage pressed harder.

"Gage stop it!" Butters cried. "H-he wasn't hurting me or nothin'!"

"Yes we're fucking clear!" Cartman snarled. He felt the foot leave his spine and his first instinct was to get to his feet and punch the skinny goth until his nose met the back of his skull. But he restrained himself…if he throttled Gage then Butters definitely wouldn't give him the car. He climbed to his feet, face red with anger.

He saw Gage staring at him, challenging him to give in to his anger.

"The Jew ran off to Denver, he stole my fucking car and I have to go get him back." Cartman growled reluctantly.

"Why'd he run Eric?" Butters asked, standing with Jutte wiggling gleefully in his arms.

"That's none of your fucking business!" Cartman snapped, then sighed at Gage's stern look. The goth was fucking protective of his boyfriend after the events of last year.

"Well our car's got a bunch of stuff in it Eric…we're movin' in two days…" Butters mumbled.

"I've got an idea." Gage smirked. "We bought a house with the money from Butters' parents. If you're going to be driving to Denver anyway, then why don't you drop our things off at the house in return? Saves our backs from moving it later." He grinned and put his cigarette back between his lips.

"I don't have time to be running your god damn errands!" Cartman was furious. Of course the goth would have thought of something like that! Butters was caving, he could feel it, then Gage had to bring up a fucking idea like that!

"I don't see anythin' wrong with it Eric. I mean we're doin' you a favor, you could do us a favor and you're gonna be down there anyway…" Butters said.

"There you have it. Either drop off the boxes in the back to the address we give you, or you can forget the car." Gage said, satisfied with the exchange.

"Fine, deal." Cartman growled, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. Butters let down Jutte and dug into the pockets of his skinny jeans for the car keys. "Don't crash it or nothin'. Kyle says you drive like a maniac. Oh, and here's our new address. It's a pretty house." Butters pulled out a ragged real estate flyer with the address on it, beaming with pride. Cartman glanced at the address. Fuck. Of course it would be halfway across town from the hotel Kyle picked.

"I'm not going to crash your car you fucking moron." Cartman growled, stuffing the flyer into his pocket. "Thanks." He grabbed Jutte's leash and whistled at her to follow him out to the driveway. The old Stotch family car was a hunter green minivan…not exactly the shining horse he wanted to be riding to kick the fuck out of Kyle. But it would have to do. He let Jutte into the passenger side seat as everything from the front seats back was jammed full of boxes. They'd even taken the rear seats completely out of the car. He'd be doing a lot of grunt work, but that was the point now wasn't it?

He slid into the driver's seat and started up the engine, swearing loudly under his breath.

Kyle was going to pay for stealing his car and running off like that.


	4. White Trash Information Centre

All Kyle could hear was breathing. In, out, in out in out in out. His heartbeat pulsed in his ears, thrumming along with the adrenaline in his veins. Fear clenched around his heart, sweat pouring down his back and soaking the black bag over his head. He couldn't see anything, and his head felt light from being encased in the canvas bag. The car underneath him was rumbling along through the streets of Denver. He tried to keep track of the turns, of the gentle stops at lights…but they all jumbled together in his brain. After half an hour he didn't know where they were.

Liane was next to him, shaking in fear, he could feel her thighs touching his. She'd meant to lure Cartman in so... what, these men could kidnap her son? She'd facilitated this with a false cry for help? He could tell she feared for her life, but enough to sell out Cartman? That was beyond disgusting. Kyle's hands tightened against the bonds holding them behind his back. The clever bastards had frog marched him out of the café, shoved him into a black SUV, zip tied his hands and put the black bag over his head. He could do very little but fume.

Left.

Right.

Straight. Stoplight, straight, left, right…all very calm movements of the vehicle. These men weren't afraid of being caught. They took their time, ambling along the road, following the speed limit. For some reason that just made Kyle's heart beat faster. "Please…I can't breathe…" he begged breathlessly to the men in the front seat.

The next thing Kyle felt was hard bone slamming into the front of his face, sending his body reeling back against the seat. An elbow had slammed into his nasal bone. He'd heard a sharp crack on the front of his face, and blood ran down his chin. "Shut the fuck up." A voice growled sharply.

Kyle coughed, blood running down the back of his throat. God, his nasal bone and septum must have completely buckled! There was an indescribable pain running through his face, and he could barely breathe through the blood threatening to trickle down his windpipe. He had to keep swallowing blood, making his stomach churn. He gasped through his mouth, coated in bloody discharge. There wasn't enough oxygen going to his brain, he was dizzy.

Kyle's chin hit his chest, and blackness covered his vision.

His eyes fluttered open again when something cool and wet rubbed his chin.

"The fuck did you do to him, bash his brains in? He didn't fight that hard did he? He's a skinny fuck."

"Wilson hit him a bit hard."

"A bit? He hasn't stopped bleeding since he got here."

The voices were so close, barely feet away. Kyle coughed and tried to get a good look at them, his nose feeling like a foreign part of his face. It was swollen, numb and bleeding. The first voice belonged to a man gingerly dabbing his face with a cool, wet cloth. "Look fuck off, the lot of you. I've got to find out if nabbing this kid to get the fat one was worth it." The man tending to him snapped at the others, his voice acid.

Kyle heard footsteps, his bleary vision making out two forms leaving the room. It looked like a basement…concrete walls and floor. A dingy ceiling with a bad light overhead, like the scene of some modern gangster movie. Kyle coughed and tried to sit up, feeling a mixture of saliva and blood sliding down his chin and neck. He felt coated in it. "I don't…have anything to do with this…" he whispered nasally. He could feel the cold breath of the concrete on every part of his unclothed body.

"Well actually you do. Let me explain." The man in front of him knelt, bringing his face into Kyle's slowly clearing vision. "You said back in that restaurant that you are Eric Theodore Cartman's lover. We found a car registered to him, and a keychain his mother has identified as his. Not to mention that white gold ring you were wearing in the car. Now, Eric is responsible for cooking a batch of methamphetamine that killed our boss' son. He's very attached to his son. Thus we have to find him and…extract our pound of flesh."

Kyle coughed and lifted his chin. "He doesn't…cook meth." He managed to squeak out.

"Oh he doesn't? So our dealers don't go to the corner of the South Park mall and meet a short, husky neo-nazi kid around 20 years of age, named Eric Theodore Cartman? Brown hair? Brown eyes? Evil soul?" the man chuckled. "He had you fooled, kid."

"He told he worked at the mall…." Kyle whispered, more to himself.

"Oh he works at the mall. For us. So you, being his boyfriend, husband, whatever you fairies call yourselves…will be our bait. Obviously using Liane didn't work, she goes back to work. We've got to try a bit more stiff tactic with you. Few pictures, maybe you lose a finger." The man gently held Kyle's cheek in his hand, lifting his head. "Don't try and breathe through your nose. The bleeding will stop eventually." He said, dropping the support from Kyle's skull.

Kyle let his chin slowly fall to his chest. He was becoming ever more aware of his surroundings. He was zip tied to the back of a steel chair, which was in turn bolted to the concrete floor. His clothes and hat had been taken, making the hairs on his skin stand up from the cold. He pressed his legs together to hide his shame, but sharp tugs on his ankles stopped the movement. His ankles were zip tied to the legs of the chair. So much for compromising the chair to get out; there was no way he could break out of this thing…he looked at the retreating back of his captor. Wide, strong muscles contained by a leather jacket and jeans. He was bald, possibly in his thirties. Whatever his age, he wasn't the sort Kyle wanted to be messing with.

"Wait…" Kyle struggled to sit up properly, the zip ties tugging sharply at his gathered wrists. The man paused at the doorway, his hand on the concrete, and turned to look at him. "What are you going to do to Eric?" Kyle demanded, some of his fire returning.

"Whatever the boss wants me to do to Eric." The man answered.

"Aren't you scared that I'm going to go to the police and identify you or something when I get out of here?" Kyle snarled. He had tried to make his feelings known on his face, but pain shot up his skull. He had better keep his expressions to a minimum if he wanted the pain to ebb off.

"Did I ever say you were leaving? Medic will be down soon to check on that nose. We need you pretty." The man left him, slamming a thick, steel door behind him.

"God fucking damn their stupid shit!" Eric snarled as he dragged the last box inside the small, craftsman home that Gage and Butters had picked out. He kicked the front door shut irritably. He'd lost about three hours dragging crap up the stairs into their home. God only knew where Kyle was now…hopefully back at the hotel where his ass could be kicked properly. "Stupid kike!" he hissed under his breath, locking the front to the home. He had to resist pissing on the doorstep or leaving the door wide open for criminals. Jutte wiggled her tail next to him, having been gleefully underfoot the entire morning.

Then again, expressing anger was only healthy.

He unlocked the front door and tucked the keys back in his pocket, smirking evilly. There now. All left to chance. If their cute little faggy house got robbed then it was just bad luck…no fault of his. He went back to the minivan, irritably pushing Jutte into the back, and started the slow trek across town. Unfortunately, his speeding wasn't taken well. A black SUV in front of him insisted on going the exact speed limit. Cartman pounded on his horn, but to no avail.

"People…" he muttered under his breath, yanking the poor minivan off to the other lane and leaving the bastard in the dust. Why couldn't people learn how to fucking drive? It wasn't that hard!

He checked the café first.

His mother was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kyle.

Cartman marched up to a tired-looking waitress. "Hey." He snapped his fingers in her face. "White trash. You see a ginger kike and an ugly streetwalker in here a few hours ago?"

She glared at him and began portioning out water to a table she was standing next to, happy to ignore his request for information. That didn't sit well with Cartman. He had been pissed off far too much today. "I asked you a question, you dumb fucking redneck." He growled low in his throat. To anyone that knew Cartman, this would have been an indication to comply or die.

This poor woman apparently didn't have that luxury. "I don't have to talk to people who speak to me like that, young man." She said sharply, apologizing to the customers next to her. She moved to retreat to the back, but Cartman was having none of it. His hand shot up and grabbed her hair when she showed her back to him. He yanked her backwards, not enough to pull her off her feet, but enough to make her look like she was practicing limbo.

He twisted his fist in the mass of tangled blond hair, eliciting a screech from the woman. Her hands flew up to the one meaty fist holding her hair, but it wouldn't do any good. Cartman's grip was like iron. The water jug crashed to the ground, sending icy water on Cartman's calves. "Tell me what I want to know and I won't give you an excuse to go to the hospital. Got it?" Cartman snarled in her face.

"I-I…I don't know! I don't keep track of every Jewish person that comes in!" she squeaked.

"Maybe you should start, for business' sake." He twisted his hand harder, starting to rip out hairs from their roots. Other diners were starting to get up and make hasty movements toward the door, and Cartman could see the lady at the front on the phone. Probably to the police; Eric didn't have a whole lot of time.

"Red hair. Big nose. Walks with a slight limp, freckles, greenest fucking eyes you've ever seen. Wears a white gold band on one hand, a stupid green hat and was talking to a whore with brown hair!" Cartman shouted in her ear, sharply tearing a few hundred more hairs out of her scalp.

"A man came in here a few hours ago! He met a woman here, they had an argument over her abandoning someone, and he left escorted by a man!" she screamed.

Cartman dropped her abruptly, seeing her fall backwards and crack her head on the linoleum. "Thanks. Now wouldn't it have been easier if you'd opened your whore mouth quicker? Women nowadays." He marched out of the diner, the astonished and frightened looks of the patrons burning into his back.

Kyle had escorted out by a man. That meant something terrible had occurred…he scowled and got back into the minivan, making a hasty retreat to the hotel. He couldn't risk sitting here until the cops showed up…they'd take exception to his harsh treatment of the close-mouthed waitress.

Fuck.

He was in worse trouble than he'd thought.


	5. Lex Parsimoniae

"They certainly did a number on you."

Kyle looked down his nose at the doctor tending to his crushed bones. He was gently inserting rods up his nostrils, correcting the crushed septum and giving support to the collapsed air passages. He held up the fragile bone and cartilage with two steel tubes, inserting some temporary structure and making his face feel ten times heavier. "It should help your nose until I can schedule you in for surgery tomorrow. They're a bit wary about letting you out of the basement." The doctor said softly, patting Kyle's shoulder. Kyle's mind was swimming through a haze of pain medication, but he managed to mumble out that he understood.

"Good man. Now you're not going to get any more pain medication." The doctor smiled gently at Kyle and exited the room, the door slamming behind him and locking with a boom.

Kyle fell asleep again, but when he woke there was the familiar man in front of him. It was the one who had spoken to him before, the muscled bald man. He could see him a lot better now…mid thirties, strong. "Let me explain the situation." The man knelt in front of him. "You're going to be staying with us until Eric Cartman gets word that we have you. But you can't just sit here free of charge, you're going to be working for us. Now, since we own Liane Cartman she suggested you work with her."

The jew lifted his head, his eyes wide. "You're reasonably attractive, slim, no diseases and you're young. Besides, we have a lot of clients that like redheads. They'll get discounts because of that nose…and trust me, we'll give you the gentle ones. Having you dead doesn't do anything for us." The man said, lifting his chin so he could examine his nose closely.

"No! Please…I…I can do something else…" Kyle begged. "I'm good at cleaning…I can serve you in other ways.."

"It's not my call." The man said softly, flicking open a knife and cutting off the zip ties. "I'm to get you bathed, clothed, then you'll be with Liane for the rest of the night." He slid his arms around Kyle's body and lifted him up easily. He smelled, his bladder was full, he was desperately hungry, and his face was throbbing.

"…What's your name?" Kyle asked quietly, his head carefully tucked against the man's barrel chest.

"Jadyn. Don't remember it, it's not going to get you any favours." The man grunted, carrying him out of the dark, cold little room. He was allowed to relieve himself, bathed, and cheap fast food was thrust at him. He wolfed it down, his wet curls hanging over his face. He was allowed to sit in the bathroom and eat, the door locked.

The bathroom was small and dark, but it was clean and Kyle was grateful for the bath. He was allowed to lay in the water only ten minutes before he was again pulled out, rubbed down roughly, with some clothes thrust in his face. His mouth was dry from breathing through it instead of his nose, his face felt numb from the pain medication. He was terrified, his heart hurt, he ached for Cartman. He sat down naked on the floor in the bathroom, sobbing.

Kyle put his head in his hands and let himself cry, tears rolling down his cheeks. He sobbed and hiccupped loudly, not being able to do it through his nose he resorted to crying open mouthed like a child. His nose stung from mucus running thin through his ruined passages. It only made him cry harder. He wanted to be home, with his new puppy, with Cartman. He wanted to feel loved again, to be held.

What he was about to do would ruin him forever, he could feel it like a black mark in his soul.

"Please God…don't make me do this…" he begged to the stained ceiling. "I never asked for this..."

The door opened and Kyle instinctively backed up against the wall of the bathroom, his heart jumping up into his mouth. His guardian stood there, glaring at him. "Get dressed. God can't help you here. Don't make it difficult and maybe the boss will let you go…he's not really in a charitable mood at the moment." He said coldly.

"Please…" Kyle begged, grabbing the clothes and gingerly sliding the shirt over his head.

"Don't beg. It makes it worse. Relax, you can pick your johns how you like, but if you slack off on making money or try and run off, it gets worse." Jadyn said coldly.

Kyle couldn't help it. He broke down and started crying again, the pants in his hands. He closed his eyes, but felt fingers in his wet hair. The fingers tightened and yanked upward. "Get the hell up and stop feeling sorry for yourself." Jadyn snarled. Kyle yelped and scrabbled to get purchase on the floor, his legs gathering under him and supporting his weight. Jadyn let go of his scalp and grabbed the front of his shirt, straightening him up. "Get it together." Jadyn picked up a washcloth from the edge of the bath and wiped the tears from Kyle's cheeks.

Kyle flinched away from the cloth. It made his broken nose sting. "Boss is getting that nose fixed before you go out there." Jadyn said. "He's not liking the idea of giving people a discount on account of your ugly face."

Cartman sighed and set Jutte on the lobby floor. He patted her. She'd been so patient with him wandering around Denver all day. "Sir, you can't bring the dog in here." The girl behind the desk told him with a raised eyebrow. "And…I don't know if you know, but her breed's illegal here."

"I'm not here long. I'm here to check up on Kyle Broflovski." Cartman said, resting his elbows on the counter. The girl scowled and met his eyes.

"I can't let you into rooms unless you're on the reservation, sir." She said. "So would you kindly take your dog and leave the premises before I call security."

Cartman felt his hackles raising. What the hell was with uncooperative women in this fucking city? He sighed angrily and grabbed the front of her shirt, yanking her halfway across the counter. "Kyle Broflovski, or you're not going to be able to call security without a tongue." He hissed. "Let's solve this before I get nasty."

The girl put up her hands, her heartbeat thrumming like a mouse's. "I…I can't look up the reservation unless you put me down…" she whimpered.

Cartman nodded and let her down, but leaned over the counter and yanked the wire out of the telephone. "So you don't get any fucking ideas." He growled, watching her hands fly across the keyboard.

"Kyle Broflovski. Room 302." She plucked an extra key out from the board behind her and handed it to Cartman. He snatched it and ran, Jutte bumbling along behind him. She had an awkward puppy run, her claws skittering on the tile flooring, and rumbling over the carpet when they ran up the stairs. She loved chasing Cartman, it was quickly becoming one of her favourite activities.

Cartman slid the card into the door and pushed it open with his shoulder. "Kahl? You better be in here you fucking Jew!" he snarled, letting Jutte into the room and slamming the door shut. He was on borrowed time here, soon the girl would plug the phone in, call security or more likely the police, and he'd be in real trouble. A quick examination of the room, then the bathroom, told him Kyle wasn't there at all. Cartman sat down heavily on the bed.

Kyle wasn't at the café.

His mother was gone.

Kyle wasn't at the hotel room.

He had to find his mother. If she lured the Jew in then she would know where he was now. But he couldn't exactly drive around Denver looking for her, and he had no idea if she had a new home. She hadn't said anything about it in the letter. He put his head in his hands, grinding his pudgy palms into his eye sockets. There was nothing for it…he had to get out there on the streets, find Liane Cartman the hard way.

Then strangle her for daring to kidnap his boyfriend.


	6. Fifteen Cigarettes

Kyle gently pawed his nose, wincing when his fingertips gingerly touched the swollen flesh. The surgery had been swift, without preamble, and it had hurt like hell. But his nose was straight, and he was under strict instructions to watch it. He looked down at his clothes, sighing softly. God, he looked terrible. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and the jeans they'd given him were tight around his legs and backside. He hadn't been allowed to keep his hat, letting his curls hang over his soft neck and face. Kyle sighed and pushed his hair out of his face, tempted to start crying again. He missed Cartman, much as he hated the racist remarks and verbal abuse. At least Eric was protective of him and showed that rare soft side.

Occasionally.

"Come on kid."

Kyle turned from the sink in the bathroom to see his guardian giving him a hard look. It was time.

"Please…I can't do this. I can do something else for you…if Cartman ever figures this out he'll kill someone." Kyle insisted. Jadyn shook his head.

"Like I said, not my call, and if that fat kid shows up he better be armed anyway. Go on. Liane's waiting for your outside, she'll show you what to do." He said, gesturing out of the room. Kyle slowly followed Jadyn's arm, his eyes meeting the heavily adorned ones of Ms. Cartman. Liane approached him and pulled the Jew into her arms. Kyle glared and pushed her away. "Hey. I'd be nice to her. She keeps your ass from getting kicked. Go on Liane." Jadyn snarled from the doorway of the bathroom.

"Come on Kyle." Liane took his hand, and this time Kyle didn't argue. How could he? He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Resist and quite possibly get his nose crushed again, or go along with it and try to live with the shame of what he was about to do. As Cartman would have put it, Jews were good at living with their own shame.

A half hour car ride later and the two of them were unceremoniously shoved out of a van onto a street corner. Liane seemed to be used to the treatment, casually walking over to a street lamp and leaning against it. Kyle slowly slunk after her. "Stand a bit away from me, wouldn't want people to think we were some odd couple." Liane said lightly, twittering her wrists at him to shoo. Kyle edged off a few feet, rubbing his arm. It was cold out in the middle of the night in Colorado…the little hairs on his body were standing on end and the jeans weren't really guarding against the cold. At least he'd been allowed to keep his shoes.

"Why the hell would you do this?" he asked after a long silence. "Sell out your own son?"

"I don't have a choice." Liane said. "If my snookums knows whats best for him, he'll stay at home."

Kyle bristled. "You really think he's going to stay at home when they've got me out here whoring myself out?" he snarled. "What the fuck am I supposed to do anyway? Just go with the first car that pulls up? Fuck the guy? How am I supposed to know-"

"Shush." Liane gestured at him, and Kyle fell silent. A nondescript Cadillac pulled up to the corner, and the passenger side window rolled down. Liane smiled and leaned against the door of the car, talking in a small voice to the people inside. After a few minutes Kyle saw her expression fall and she straightened up, looking over at him. "They want you." She said.

Kyle felt his blood turn to ice. What was he supposed to do? Run? Attack them? Either one would likely end in his death or being beaten to a pulp. Besides, he was fairly sure they were being watched by someone. He had that feeling of eyes on the back of his head. Kyle slowly approached the car and leaned down as Liane had done. The driver was a male, but he was surprised to see that there was a woman in the back seat. She seemed like she'd just come from a party, an expensive blue dress covering her body. She had a cigarette lightly perched between two rouged lips, and her eyes seemed to go straight through him. Heavy lidded blue things that were pawing through his mind.

"Get in." she purred at him, reaching over and opening the back door for him. Kyle looked at Liane. He didn't want to do this, but somehow he was relieved that his first…client…was a woman. At least he didn't risk injury.

He hoped.

"Well?" the woman's purr had an impatient edge to it this time.

Liane nodded at Kyle and glanced back into an alleyway behind them. So that was it. Either go or get beat up by whatever was waiting for him in the shadows. Kyle took a deep breath. He put his hand on the car door…and slammed it shut. "No." he said, adrenaline making his stomach twist into knots. He waited for a gun click, a man to grab him, anything.

But all he heard was the lady inside the car laughing. "Oh dear. I've found a contrite one. Get in the car…what else are you here for? Be grateful I'm not one of those brutes from the bar down the street." She chuckled lightly. Kyle shook his head.

"I'm sure you're a nice woman. But you shouldn't be doing this, and neither should I. Don't you have a husband waiting at home or something?" he asked her, trying to worm his way out. Jew his way out, Cartman would have put it. He was met with that same tittering laugh.

"Of course I do. But he doesn't care that I do this, and neither do I." she smiled and opened the door again. "Come on little redhead. I don't bite unless I pay to do so."

Kyle looked back at the alleyway, then at Liane. She seemed nervous, afraid of something. Again he was caught between running away and committing himself to doing something so horrible he was sure he would never forgive himself. He slid into the Cadillac and shut the door. The car was a tomb, full of smoky air and the scent of alcohol. It was these types of cars that people were found dead in.

"Driver, head to my place. I don't think he's going to feel comfortable in some alley, and neither will I." the woman told the man in the front. She put her hand on Kyle's thigh and he flinched away from her.

"I'm gay." Kyle told her coldly. "You're wasting your time."

Normally he might have been inclined to feel polite. She was a beautiful woman with a sense of humour, and was just looking for a little fun. However, when he was the piece of meat she was eyeing it felt a whole lot different. He felt…sarcastic, cold, vicious. A lot like Cartman had first made him feel.

"That's not the first time I've heard that excuse." He heard a whisper, much closer than she'd first been, and lips close around his ear.

Cartman was on his fifteenth cigarette. He was smoking like some great engine, the minivan pushing the boundaries of the street limit as he cruised the less-desireable parts of Denver. His eyes were on the street corners, grooming over whore after whore, crack dealer after crack dealer. Where was his mother? Where was Kyle?

"Fucking little fucking Jew just had to fucking stick his fucking nose where it's not fucking WANTED!" he snarled, his teeth tightening around the cancer stick in his mouth. "He's going to get himself fucking killed and its my fault." He pushed harder on the gas, making the engine growl as it pushed its own limits further. Jutte had her head out the window, eyes bright, enjoying the ride her daddy was taking her on. She had little idea what was going on…she did know, in a vague sense, that Kyle was supposed to be sharing this moment with them.

"Fuck this." Cartman twisted the wheel sharply and drove the van up onto the curb, startling the hell out of three hookers. They shied away like scared horses, their eyes locked on him. Cartman ripped open the door and leapt out, marching over to them. One of the whores had the presence of mind to try to run. Unfortunately, much like a wolf, Cartman's attention was attracted by such antics. He lunged forward and caught her trackmarked arm, yanking her frail body toward him. "I have had it up to here with bitches not giving me information today. I've beat up more women than a nigger in a whorehouse, I'm nearly out of gas, and I feel like killing the third bitch that crosses me today!" he hissed in her face.

The others tried to take the opportunity to run, but Cartman's stare stopped them dead. His brown eyes slowly swung back toward the struggling druggie he held. "I know you all work for the same boss, this is his territory and I've sold here before. So let me ask you. Where is Liane Cartman?" he snarled, pulling her closer against her will. "Does she work a corner near here?"

The whore whimpered and turned her head away from him, putting her thin fingers over her face. Cartman yanked her hand down and then grabbed her jaw. "Five seconds, and then you become a casualty." He hissed. She shook her head, obviously either too high or too scared to tell him. Cartman's hand on her jaw tightened, and he pulled her into his body, shoving her chin up and to the left. He pushed, feeling her neck bones strain to stop the rotation.

"Stop!" One of the other whores shouted at him. "Please! Don't kill her! She just took an eight-ball, she doesn't know what's happening!"

Cartman relaxed his hold slightly, but his victim was still in mortal danger of snapping her own neck if she struggled.

"If you know anything, tell me now." Cartman hissed, frozen but still threatening to kill the woman.

"Liane works on the corner of Fifth and Main downtown. She always hangs around there, doesn't leave even for clients…just goes around the corner to the alley or the parking lot of that old Jiffy Lube." The other whore stammered out. "Now let her go…please."

Cartman seemed to consider it for a moment, then pushed up powerfully on the girl's neck. He heard it snap, like a dry twig in the forest, and her body went slack in his arms. The two other whores screamed when they saw their companion's eyes roll back into her head. Cartman shoved the body at them. "A message to your employer. If he's harmed so much as a curl on that Jew's head…I'll dig out his eyeballs with a fucking spoon." He turned and went back to the van, getting in and slamming the door. He saw one of the whores paw through a faux fur bag and yank out a cell phone. God, more cops. Just what he needed today; he probably had half of the police force on his ass by now. The girl in the diner probably called them, the girl in the hotel definitely called them, and now he'd committed murder.

Well, not really murder. It was just a hooker. They were sub-humans, they didn't deserve the same courtesies.

Jutte whimpered and butted his hand when he yanked the van out of park and surged forward, narrowly missing the two whores cradling their dead companion. Cartman rubbed her ears. "We're finding Daddy Kahl." He mumbled to her, sirens in the distance reaching his ears. He was working on borrowed time now, a clock hanging over his head from now until the police caught him.

If they searched the house…they'd find all the poisons. The drugs he'd been cooking. They'd not only lock him up, but if they found Kyle the Jew would be right there in the slammer with him.

God dammit, his mother better be on that corner, and she had better have the Jew with her.


	7. God Brought the Sheriff

The sirens were surrounding Cartman, like the coils of a great snake they would wrap around him and crush him. His time was up to find the Jew, and he knew it. He couldn't think, all that was in his head were sirens. Screeching at him like harpies. He knew where he had to go. The Jiffy Lube, the corner where his mother worked. It made him sick to think about it. "God fucking damn sirens!" he snarled, leaned over the wheel of the van like some old man bent on revenge. Jutte whined, curled up on the passenger seat with her claws desperately gripping the vinyl. Cartman was driving so madly she couldn't bear to sit up or put her head out the window anymore, she'd toss it.

Cartman screeched through stop signs, careened through red, yellow and green lights alike. He heard the screeching of brakes and even the crashing of glass and twisted metal in his wake. Jutte began whining, and forwent the seat all together for the floor of the van, shutting her eyes. Her owner looked completely mad!

He had to get there before someone picked up Kyle.

Kyle felt like he was going to throw up. He'd been in the Cadillac for a good twenty minutes, with the woman's claws running up and down his thigh. She seemed to be preying on the fact that he didn't want to be there, enjoying his pain.

He heard sirens going off in every corner of the city…and then the car rolled to a stop. "What's the problem?" the woman snapped, taking her hand off of Kyle's thigh. It at least allowed him to breathe a little bit. He'd been hyperventilating since she'd started rubbing him.

"I'm sorry ma'am, there's a huge pileup here…it looks like someone might have run a red light. There are at least six cars….there's no way to get around it. Want me to turn around?" he asked.

The woman sighed angrily. "Yes, yes.." she waved her hand impatiently and looked at her victim pressed up against the side of the vehicle. She crawled over to him like a spider, with a sickening grin on her face. "Oh come on dear…spread those legs and give a girl a little pleasure…I'm still going to pay you. How could I not? You're so sweet when you want to get away." She chuckled darkly and reached for Kyle's waistband. Kyle grabbed her wrist.

"Please…I have a.."

A what?

What was Cartman to him…? After all the lies, and he was only uncovering more, could he ever trust Cartman again? Or would he always be uncovering these layers of lies?

"You've been telling me that the whole time in the car. Like I said…I have a husband. And you don't have to have a hard cock to use that tongue now do you?" she smirked and grabbed his chin, pressing her rouged lips to his. Kyle's nausea hit him like a truck. He heaved and, horror of horrors, felt vomit spill out of his mouth, over hers, and onto the seat of the Cadillac.

The next thing he heard was a scream of rage, a howling harpy shriek that sent fear deep into his very core. "You little shit! I'll kill you!" the woman screamed, her hands flying for his throat. But luckily Kyle's spill of sadness had half-blinded her, and the driver had put on the brakes in the confusion. Kyle scrambled for the door handle and ripped it open, falling to his knees out of the Cadillac. He scrambled to the sidewalk.

The sirens were roaring all around them, screeching in the distance, calling to one another like wolves searching for prey. Kyle was dizzy, his gut was twisting. He heaved again onto the pavement, stomach acid burning in his nostrils. Through his broken nose, bringing tears to his eyes. He wasn't sure if the woman was after him…he just had to keep crawling, blind, his front covered in vomit, nose and eyes stinging.

He was soon in a large asphalt plain that smelled like oil and rock. A few white lines swam in his bleary vision and he collapsed onto his side, tears falling from his stinging eyes. When they found him he was going to die. He knew it.

Cartman pulled over the curb and yanked the driver's side door open. He looked over and saw Liane, face pale, clutching her purse. He got out, yanking something from behind the driver's seat. He hefted the tire iron, marching over to her. "Don't you fucking run, you slippery little whore!" he roared, lifting the weapon aloft.

She sniffled and cowered against the lamp post she'd been hanging out against. "P-please, muffykins…" she whimpered.

"Don't you muffykins me!" Cartman snarled sharply. "Where the fuck is he? Where is Kyle? I'll rip your face open you fucking bitch!"

"E-eric…he…he left with a client…I haven't-" Liane fell silent, lips shivering.

"Which direction." Cartman growled. He had an eighth of a tank of gas left in the van, and the sirens were getting louder and louder by the second. He had only a few minutes of time, and when Liane pointed the way the Cadillac had gone, he was running for the van like a pistol had gone off. He slammed the door shut and he was off like a shot.

Kyle sniffled and tucked his hand close to his face. He'd been unable to stop crying for about a half an hour. "I'm never going to see him again.." he whimpered against the oily asphalt, drooling and crying. He shivered against the wind, shoulders heaving as he cried. He didn't care about himself anymore, he wanted Cartman. He wanted his arms around him, he wanted to be home in their bed. With their couch, with their dog, and no one else. But no, he was going to die here alone when they came for him.

His broken nose was bleeding again, his hair was filthy, his clothes hadn't been changed in days. "God…" he gasped, swallowing. "…if you can here me…bring him here to me. I know he's an asshole…but I need him."

Cartman ran out of gas in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart, the tortured van choking and grinding to a halt. He was out of gas, and out of time. They weren't sirens anymore, they were lights and white cars. Cartman rested his forehead against the steering wheel. He heard a whine from the seat next to him and he growled. "Shut the hell up Jutte." He mumbled, his eyes shut.

He heard claws scrabbling against plastic and irritably shoved her over with one arm, opening the door for her. His foggy mind reasoned she probably needed to go to the bathroom. He heard claws hit the asphalt, then go scrabbling and clicking across it. He swore when they faded. He didn't need to lose the damned puppy in the midst of this. Cartman pulled his head up and looked through the windshield at where the pitbull had gone. To a redhaired form crumpled on the tarmac around fifty yards away.

"….It can't be." Eric whispered. "Holy fucking Hitler it can't be…" he ripped open the driver's door and tore across the asphalt. The police were here, he could hear tires turning into the parking lot, the sirens blaring out their presence. But all Cartman could think about was getting to his Jew.

He covered the distance in what seemed like seconds, falling to his knees and grabbing Kyle's shoulders. Jutte wiggled her tail and barked at him, licking vomit and tears away from Kyle's ragged face. "Kyle? Kahl talk to me you fucking Jew!" Cartman yanked his lover up and held him against his chest.

"Eric Theodore Cartman, freeze and drop any weapons in your possession! You're under arrest!"

Kyle sniffled and raised his head from Cartman's shoulder.

God had brought Cartman to him….

…and apparently, the police.


	8. A Taste of Every Batch

"I'm fine." Kyle said for what felt like the millionth time, sighing and rolling his eyes. The nurses were relentless, poking and prodding his nose until he felt as if it were going to fall off. Inquiries about Cartman had turned up nothing either. Kyle had to assume he was in jail, the police had shown up in such force his boyfriend had to have killed someone. His inquiries fell on deaf ears though he had demanded it of everyone from the nurses to the doctors to the janitor. Soon enough he had to fall back in his hospital bed at Denver Hospital and just shut his mouth. He gave a nasty look to the retreating back of the nurse who had ignored his protests and had prodded his nose. He needed Cartman, and the realization he was safe had gotten rid of that horrible rotten feeling in his stomach.

Questions still remained in his mind. Had Cartman really cooked meth…? Had he really been lying to him this entire time about his job at the mall? Kyle lifted his hand and picked at his IV bandage, his mind stirring. He didn't know what to feel. Had Jadyn and his ilk been telling the truth? Another day passed, another day with an IV dripping next to his right ear until he thought he would go mad. Another day of doctors prodding his nose and telling him yes, it was healing nicely. He couldn't stand it anymore. He yanked the IV out of his hand and stood up shakily, grabbing the white plastic bag on the floor next to his gurney. He yanked on his jeans and examined his t-shirt. Ugh. Dried vomit was plastered down the front of it. He made a face and shoved it back in the bag. He searched for his hat before he remembered that Jadyn had stripped him of it. He sighed angrily. He would have to go out there with his mass of bouncy red curls frayed everywhere like some deranged joker.

Kyle made a face but stuffed the bag back. They could have his shirt. He eyed the hospital gown. Well, he couldn't tuck it into his jeans without looking like a mental patient. He stripped it off as well. Shirtless, he tugged on his socks and shoes. He slowly and gently opened the door to his room, peering out into the hallway. Empty. He slid into the room adjacent to his own and took in the sight of the patient laying on the bed. His chest was raising up and down slowly, and the lights in the room were off. Sleeping, just like Kyle had hoped. "I'm sorry." He whispered and padded across the dark room to a white bag that looked identical to his own. He grasped it and slid his hand inside, pawing around. He found a plain white shirt and pulled it over his head, gently replacing the rest of the clothes and stuffing the bag back in its place.

Now he looked normal. He took a deep breath and slid out into the hallway. His blood pressure jumped whenever he passed by a nurse, so much so that he nearly jumped out of his skin when one touched his arm gently. "Young man, are you supposed to be on this floor? Visiting hours are over. I'll have to ask you to leave." The short, dumpy nurse said sternly. Kyle had no doubt that she would have him bodily dragged out…there was protectiveness in her steely little eyes.

"I uh…fell asleep in my uncle's room." He pointed to the room he'd come out of. "I was just leaving." He scrambled away to the elevator before she could say anything. He pressed the button for the lobby and bit his lip. He would be at the police station…and he wouldn't say a damned thing until he knew if Cartman had lied to him. He looked at the bare spot on his hand. God, his ring…the bastards had stolen the white gold ring that Cartman had given him. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and his chest grow tight. Cartman had loved him enough to give him that. Now he doubted if he would ever see it again. It would be pawned off like some tawdry bauble.

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Cartman growled and paced in his cell. He had been here for four days. Four days of the fucking police jerking him around. He felt like a caged boar, bristling at the slightest provocation. The other inmates had learned quickly not to mess with him after he'd rearranged the teeth of one his cellmates. "Tell me when the FUCK I get to know anything!" Cartman shouted angrily at a passing guard, but retracted back into his cell when the man whipped his asp against the bars.

"You have been nothing but a pain in the ass the second you arrived here. This is a goddamn holding cell. You have enough charges against you to stick you in jail for a very long time, Mr. Cartman. There was a dead prostitute on Fifth and two other hookers who swear someone of your description killed her. Your van was reported stolen a few days ago, you were speeding, you caused several accidents, and you were found in possession of an illegal animal." The guard snarled with equal viciousness. Cartman could do little but glare back until the guard responded to a crackly, barely discernable voice on his radio. "You've got a visitor." The guard grunted.

Cartman was led into a small, white room with a steel table that he noted was bolted to the floor. He pulled out the chair and plunked down into it, feeling the steel groan under his bulk. He expected Kyle…he wanted Kyle. But the tall man who pulled out the chair across from him and settled down was most certainly not Kyle. Cartman immediately shoved the chair back and stood up, but the man barely glanced at him. Instead, he threw a small white-gold band onto the table.

"I thought capturing your little boyfriend would bring you to Denver. And I was right." The man said, sitting down and looking at Cartman. The larger boy was bristling in such murderous rage that had the table not been bolted to a concrete floor the other man might have been frightened. "I'd calm down. We have people on the inside just as much as we do on the outside. The boss considered just having them knife you in here…but he likes the idea of having your little boyfriend in his clutches to keep you on a leash. Your meth is the purest in town, Mr. Cartman. Your cocaine, brilliant. Your angel dust an absolute song of chemistry….and your poisons even more so." The man steepled his hands in front of him.

"If you fucking touch Kyle I'm going to strangle your fucking neck!" Cartman spat. The man raised one elegantly shaped eyebrow.

"Is that so? Do you even know my name, Mr. Cartman? Do you even know where I came from? Where to start?" the man said, settling back. Cartman wanted to rip him to shreds, everything from his tailored three-piece black suit to the meticulously trimmed stubble over his jaw. Angry brown eyes met patient green ones. "You don't know anything. But you will continue working for us. We will pay you of course, and your boyfriend will help allieviate the damage you've caused by working alongside your mother. We had him there previously, but he slipped through our fingers and that will never happen again. We've caught him headed toward the jail. Coming to see you, I'll wager."

"You don't think they're fucking recording this?!" Cartman spat. "They'll arrest your ugly ass the second you step-"

"Men can be bribed. Cops don't make much on a meager salary and some of them are all too eager to add to the college fund." The man interrupted lightly. "Now. Will you cooperate and come with me? Your bail's been paid. That nasty evidence is going to disappear very quickly but it can pop up just as quickly if you decide you want to betray us. Kyle will be just fine. He might even be allowed to go home, we haven't had a branch in South Park since your mother relocated. We still have men there of course. He'll hustle his ass out to anyone in South Park, give us whatever he earns, and you will work until we feel like ending you."

Cartman was the very face of blind rage. He would poison every damned batch he could get his fingers on. He would kill every single client, every man who ever snorted so much as a grain of any damned drug he created. Rage filled him. No one would touch Kyle, and he would escape, he had to. "Deal." He growled low in his throat, his eyes focused on the other man like a grizzly bear set on fire. Rage incarnate.

The man stood up. "We'll have your release processed in roughly 24 hours. The governor is a very good customer of ours. There is one other thing." He said. "We're going to give your boyfriend a taste of every batch. So don't even think of poisoning it." He opened the door to the visitor's room and slammed it shut.


	9. The Candy Man Can

Kyle blinked blearily when the hood was removed from his head. He coughed, but upon his self-assessment found himself relatively unharmed. He started to slowly rise from the familiar carpet of the home he and Cartman shared but the cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his head. He relaxed in a sitting position on the floor, brows knitting together. "How the fuck did you find out where we live?" he snarled, and wasn't surprised to receive a sharp tap on the skull from said gun barrel.

He looked up when Jadyn crouched in front of him. The aged, patient eyes looked at his face and the man lifted a hand to examine the healing nose. Kyle's head lunged forward and his teeth clicked shut on empty air. Jadyn had quick reflexes despite his middle age. "Listen kid. You're a feisty little shit but you really need to learn some manners." The guard sighed. "The boss has your boyfriend working for him. He was going to kill the both of you but seeing as how the fat shithead has a talent for chemistry we're going to let him live. He works for us, you work for us, no fussing. You hustle your rear out here, he makes his drugs in Denver, boss releases you when he feels like Cartman's finished off his blood debt."

Kyle glared. "Because hustling me worked so well last time." He sneered.

"This is a smaller town kid. Easier to control. You can't just run off in a car with someone and lose us. I can name the streets in this place without letting go of my gun." Jadyn answered tiredly, clearly sick of the antics.

"You also forget I have friends here." Kyle snapped.

"We're not pimping to your friends, unless they feel like taking you for some cash you're not talking to them." Jadyn said, flicking his hand to the guard behind Kyle. Kyle heard the slight skitter of claws on carpet and Jutte was bathing his face with her tongue. The teenager wrapped his arms around the pit bull, who seemed very taken with the adventure her life was turning out to be. "I convinced them to let you have the dog. Affectionate thing like that's going to be no harm to anyone, she's not even lost her milk teeth."

Kyle kissed the top of Jutte's head and released her, pushing her toward the kitchen. The puppy wiggled her way to her food bowl and began devouring her dinner. "We're going to be your house guests for a little bit." Jadyn said. "Three of us. You don't fuss with us, we don't mess with you. You don't have to fuck the boys, or me, and we don't have to shoot you unless you try something stupid. Just like a little family. Got it?"

Kyle was shaking with frustration. His family lived here, Stan lived here! Stan. His thoughts turned to his best friend. He had to get to Stan. He nodded curtly and Jadyn indicated to the other two guards that Kyle was to be let to his feet. The teenager rose and lifted his chin haughtily, glaring at the other men. "Cartman's going to find some way to kill you. All of you." He growled.

"There's another problem, kid." Jadyn sighed and steered Kyle with a powerful hand on his shoulder toward the couch. He pressed him into a sitting position and another guard dropped a tiny bag on the table. Kyle stared at the powder for a moment as Jadyn picked it up and took a mirror out of the pocket of his leather jacket, setting it on the table.

He also withdrew a blank credit card and a small straw. He neatly cut the white powder into three lines and held the straw towards Kyle. "Boss says you have to take a taste of every batch. He thinks your boyfriend might get ideas from that poison lab in the basement of this house. Just in case you get any ideas, we locked and barred it." Jadyn added.

"You're kidding me." Kyle stared incredulously at the straw, then at the cocaine.

"We broke your nose once. Don't make me take out a tooth." Jadyn's voice steeled, withdrawing his gun from the back of his pants and settling it on the table. Kyle gingerly took the straw, and placed it to his mouth. With a great puff of air he blew the lines of cocaine in a great puff all over the coffee table and the carpet.

Jadyn gave a heavy sigh, grabbed the back of Kyle's neck, and slammed his head to the table. Kyle felt his face ground against the sharp edges of the mirror and he hissed. "Bring out the heroin, that's one we don't need his cooperation for." Jadyn grumbled, and Kyle felt his sleeve being rolled up.

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Stan walked down the street with his hands shoved in his pockets. He was ruminating on what to do with the sunny Colorado day. There was a bite to the air, as always in the small mountain town, but it was as pleasant a day as one could get. Kyle had been unavailable the past few days, so Stan had started developing a closer relationship with Kenny. He'd always felt a little strange around Kyle and Cartman after the two had become lovers. It was very uncharacteristic to see Cartman giving Kyle lecherous grins and Kyle's acidic retorts having a hint of loving mockery.

He sighed deeply. Things were definitely changing. Butters and the goth kid, Cartman and Kyle. Ah well, he still loved Kyle as a friend all the same and he hadn't really changed much. He still enjoyed basketball and videogames. The only thing that still made him a bit queasy was when Cartman's affections went a little too far in his presence.

Stan turned the corner into a harsher part of town, heading for Kenny's shack of a house. He saw the blonde settled on the steps of his house, a cigarette between his teeth and tossing a softball back and forth in his skinny hands. "Mphready phu phlay?" he asked from behind the massive hood that usually muffled his voice.

Stan shook his head and settled down next to Kenny. "Phude, phou phear phout Kyle?" Kenny snickered behind his hood. The other teenager blinked.

"What about Kyle?" he asked slowly. Kenny pulled down his hood and gave Stan a serious look, though the stronger teen could see mischief behind Kenny's eyes.

"Cartman's pimping him out." Kenny proclaimed as if he'd just predicted the end of the world.

"…What?" Stan said, a bit taken aback.

"No joke. My brother said he was coming back from the gas station and saw him sucking off Mr. Wong."

"From City Wok?" Stan said in disbelief.

"Yeah. Cartman's pimping him out." Kenny repeated, standing up and tossing the ball to Stan, who caught it without changing the stunned expression on his face. "So, you ready to play or what?"

"Hold on. You've got to be kidding me. There's no way that Kyle's being turned into a whore and you just ignore it and go on with life." Stan scowled.

"Dude, I die an average of once every three days. You really think our cute Jew boy turning into a hooker at the hands of Cartman is shocking after giant guinea pigs invaded when we were twelve?" Kenny smirked. "It'll work out. Trust me. Give it a few days and everything will work out."

"What the hell dude?" Stan snarled and stood up. "We've got to go get him right now!"

"Stan. Listen to me. You mess with it and it's going to get worse. If we ignore it, wait a few days, it's going to work out. It always does." Kenny sighed.

Stan threw the ball back and got up, walking down the street toward the gas station. His poor companion followed him out to the street in order to watch him, shaking his head. Kenny sighed and rolled his eyes, pulling his hood back up. "Nobody phlearns anyfing..." Kenny muttered and looked at the car rapidly approaching him. "Oh phuck." He groaned as the station wagon ploughed into him.

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

"This…is…bullcrap." Cartman snarled under his breath, the mask over his face muffling his voice slightly. He'd been at this for hours, under armed guard, without any word as to what would happen to him next. What would happen to Kyle if he was forced to take a bit of every batch. The meth he could easily fake, he could make sugar crystals all day long while these assholes marveled at the size of them. The cocaine was a bit harder but easier to inactivate. Heroin was almost impossible to fake, the black tar substance was volatile enough on its own. Additionally, Cartman had to keep making a slight amount of real drugs to keep the fake ones passable. If he faked all of them, the customers would catch on as would the sellers, and goodbye Kyle.

But, if he produced an equal or slightly greater amount of fake drugs to real, the probability that Kyle would receive actual heroin, cocaine or meth was lowered. He had to protect his lover, even if it meant he knew he would get punished for passing off candy as a federally-outlawed drug.

The thought of Kyle being forced to prostitute himself just like Eric had done was enough to give him smug pleasure in the thought he was cheating them. "Just hold on, and don't do anything fucking dumb you stupid Jew." He growled under his breath as he prepared yet another batch of sugar syrup. His mind was buzzing. What did Kyle think of him…what would he think of him, if he saw the lab in the basement? Of course Kyle had been down there before and had royally flipped shit when he'd seen marijuana drying in racks from the ceiling. What would be his reaction when he saw his batches of meth or some of the more serious poisons?

That gave him a thought. He had to figure out some way to get Kyle a message.

No, not Kyle. Kyle was being watched. Not Kenny, Kenny was a poor piece of shit and even Cartman had trouble intimidating him into doing anything that wasn't hilarious. Stan could work, but the stupid bastard's strong ethical code barely put him above hippies on the Shit That Annoyed Cartman scale. It was the only chance he had, though. "I'm pinning my hopes on a fucking jock." Cartman growled. "Fucking Stan."


End file.
